Classic Poem

Earth is weary of our foolish wars, The
Her hills and shores were shaped for lovely things,
Yet all our years are spent in bickerings
— — Beneath the astonished stars.

April by April laden with beauty comes,
Autumn by Autumn turns our toil to gain,
But hand at sword hilt, still we start and strain
— — To catch the beat of drums.

Knowledge to knowledge adding, skill to skill,
We strive for others' good as for our own —
And then, like cavemen snarling with a bone,
— — We turn and rend and kill. . . .

With life so fair, and all too short a lease
Upon our special star! Nay, love and trust,
Not blood and thunder shall redeem our dust.
— — Let us have peace!

Earth is weary of our foolish wars, The
Her hills and shores were shaped for lovely things,
Yet all our years are spent in bickerings
— — Beneath the astonished stars.

April by April laden with beauty comes,
Autumn by Autumn turns our toil to gain,
But hand at sword hilt, still we start and strain
— — To catch the beat of drums.

Knowledge to knowledge adding, skill to skill,
We strive for others' good as for our own —
And then, like cavemen snarling with a bone,
— — We turn and rend and kill. . . .

With life so fair, and all too short a lease
Upon our special star! Nay, love and trust,
Not blood and thunder shall redeem our dust.
— — Let us have peace!